


Harry Potter and the Preventers

by krysnel_nicavis



Category: Gundam Wing, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 03 x 01, Adopted Harry Potter, Adoption, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Five Stages of Grief, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Male Slash, Miscarriage, Moving On, Mpreg, Romance, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5762530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, fate sucks at her job. Other times, she seems to know what she’s doing. Heero and Trowa have just suffered a tragic loss. Harry is soon to experience a loss himself but, thanks to two former Gundam pilots, his loss won’t be anywhere near tragic. Maybe they'll all learn something in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Episode 00 - The Section 9 Collective

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted as a series of one-shots. As of the 2017-10-14, I began compiling the one-shots under a single fic.

Episode 00

The Section 9 Collective

AC 199

* * *

The Section 9 Collective – self-titled the Wizarding World – was a secret sect of society capable of controlling an energy force similar, in some aspects, to that of an electric charge output. It had the effect of a low grade electro-magnetic pulse and, some centuries earlier, often interfered with the old electronic technologies of the time. Newer technologies were designed to be unaffected by the Organic Electro-Magnetic Force (OEM Force). After one particular joke, in reference to a classic science fiction movie, this energy was often referred to as simply “the Force” by individuals who knew about it. [1] By utilizing this OEM Force, citizens of the Collective could accomplish a variety of tasks, both mundane and fantastical, including the manipulation of matter. The Collective was controlled by a race of humans who called themselves “witches” and “wizards”. They ruled over other OEM Force sensitive races and controlled its use, referring to this energy as “magic”.

Both outside and within the Collective existed a class of citizens known as First-Gens: First Generation OEM Force users. These individuals were called many things across the Earth by the Collective. Muggleborn being one of the more common, and one of the less insulting. A disproportionately large number of which left the Collective’s communities to return to their former homes.

This was the result of some rather harsh truths. Their contempt for anything that did not conform to their traditions, their arrogance that no one outside their secluded communities were little more than helpless infants in need of sheltering, and their utter ignorance to the capabilities of modern technology were all a great cause for dislike from those outside the Collective. However, in addition to this, there were frequent instances which occurred within the Collective, almost daily, that only served to foster full blown disdain from those considered to be from the outside.

While they believed their society to be completely secret from the rest of the Earth Sphere, the higher levels of government were all completely aware of their existence. When the Earth began to come together to form a more unified nation (rocky as that union was at times) and began to create the space colonies, they recognized the need to have access to proper and complete information on the citizens of the Collective the same as any other citizen within the Earth Sphere, as well as a way to gain access to the necessary official information.

The First-Gens quickly became the much needed bridge for the gathering and compiling of this information. They easily secured positions inside the Collective that specialized in archiving, and other areas which allowed them to gather information and maintain official records, as no one else wished to do these menial tasks. They also found employment in the government facilities needed to compile this information and the resulting records (which included news publications) on the necessary computer databases.

This access to accurate information allowed government agencies to run background checks and keep personal records of the Collective citizens along with regular citizens. However, in order to allow the Collective to maintain its illusion of secrecy, access to Collective-specific databases were restricted and classified to individuals and agencies with the proper level of clearance.

Included among these agencies was the Preventers organization.

They were less than amused by what they found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Section 9 Collective – I chose the number 9 because, in alchemy, numbers have significant meaning. 3 is an important number, trinities and the power of 3 being important. 9 is considered a perfect number. One reason being it consists of 3 groups of 3.
> 
> Footnote:  
> [1] I decided that, while the blatant reference to Star Wars is amusing, I wanted to come up with a term/phrase that was unique to this storyline. While references to “the Force” may be made in a joking manner, I decided that I preferred to have a more official term in place. Hopefully I’ve succeeded this despite that the word “Force” is still used.


	2. Episode 01 - The Boy With The Green Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, fate sucks at her job. Other times, she seems to know what she’s doing. Heero and Trowa have just suffered a tragic loss. Harry is soon to experience a loss himself but, thanks to two former Gundam pilots, his loss won’t be anywhere near tragic. Maybe they'll all learn something in the process.

Episode 01

The Boy With The Green Eyes

AC 199

* * *

Heero glanced at the image on the laptop screen his lover of nearly three years was staring intently at. The image was of a man who looked to be a few years older than them and was rather attractive. For a split second he felt pang of jealously and grief before forcefully crushing it back. He silently sighed before inquiring “Who is that?”

Without glancing away, Trowa replied like he was giving a status update or a mission report. “Jameson Fleamont Potter. Born 27-03-AC178. Only child of Fleamont Henry Potter and Euphemia Gladys Potter, both deceased; married to Lily Andrea Potter, née Evans. Born 30-01-AC178. Younger daughter, and second child, of Alton Harrison Evans and Iris Cora Evans, also both deceased. Elder sister named Petunia Hortense Dursley, born 12-02-AC177.”

He finally turned his striking green eyes way from the screen to look fully at his lover. Heero blinked, the only indication that he was confused. Trowa’s lips thinned for a moment as he debated explaining fully. “I came across him today when… during my walk.” Heero’s eyes shaded over a bit. Trowa read the guilt there and sighed sadly before gently pulling the physically smaller man into his arms, sitting him securely in his lap. “Please don’t fret, my love,” he implored softly.

“You’ve been spending a disproportionate amount of time walking lately,” Heero observed. He didn’t know why he felt the need to voice this. He understood why Trowa did it. “I can’t help thinking it’s my fault.” Trowa’s hold tightened a bit at the words. The uncharacteristic uncertainty in the usually confident voice tore at his heart.

“No, my love,” Trowa gently insisted, his voice never raising above its usual soft tones. “It’s not your fault at all. I frequently believe it is mine.”

Heero bunched his shirt in his hand above his stomach. “But if I hadn’t-”

 _“NO!”_ Trowa’s loud exclamation startled them both. “No,” he insisted, his voice calm again. “That was not your fault. It happened. It sucks, but it happened. In truth, it was no one’s fault.” He gathered his lover closer into his well-defined arms, pressing a tender kiss to the other man’s lips.

Heero exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his breath shuddering, and rested their foreheads together. They sat in silence for a time, wordlessly sharing their grief.

“So, what’s with the guy?” Heero finally asked as he turned back to look at the image on the screen. Now that he got a better look at the man, he was a bit startled and even more confused when he realized the man resembled himself. Not quite enough to pass as brothers but enough to possibly be cousins. Trowa looked back to the screen as well and sighed. This time there was some evident measure of disdain that Heero picked up on. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Can I say, again, how much I’ve grown to truly despise the Section 9 Collective?”

Heero huffed in amusement and agreement. This was a long standing sentiment held by the entirety of the Preventer organization. “What does that have to do with this?”

“I’ve been doing research into this family. Thankfully, their continued alienation of First-Gens definitely comes in handy.” That, and their status as Preventers. “Mr and Mrs Potter are the _proud_ parents of a set of twin boys.” Sarcasm was evident in the way he said ‘proud’.

Heero sighed. “That’s no reason to dislike the man.”

Trowa rested his chin on Heero’s shoulder and snorted. “What makes me dislike him is his disproportionate and unadulterated favouritism of one over the other.”

“What do you mean?”

“According to my research, the family was targeted a few weeks ago on Hallowe’en.” Both of their lips thinned. “The terrorist leader, Voldemort, apparently broke in and attacked the boys with the intent to kill them.” He felt his lover tense. “They’re both completely fine, do not worry,” he assured.

“So why the favouritism if they’re both unharmed?”

“Not quite unharmed. They both apparently got small cuts when the roof of their nursery collapsed but from the medical reports I found, they were minor and dealt with efficiently,” Trowa clarified. “Supposedly there was some sort of energy backlash when Voldemort attacked that destroyed his body completely. The attack used is supposed to be one that is impossible to survive. The elder of the two boys, Alton Fleamont Potter, is being heralded as the saviour of the Collective and news articles have labelled him the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Heero blinked and looked at Trowa with a blank expression. “They’re favouring the famous twin,” he stated. Trowa nodded. “What happened exactly when you came across this man today?” Heero asked, his face still carefully blank.

“I took immediate notice of him because he was glancing around, muttering to himself. I thought at the time that he was lost. We sat and talked a bit. He was clearly distracted by something. After a bit of small talk, he launched into a rather dramatic tale of woe.”

Heero couldn’t help snorting in amusement. “Tale of woe?” Trowa grinned before becoming serious again.

“From what he told me, one would gather that he and his wife have fallen on hard times and they simply cannot afford to keep their small family together. But they dearly love both their children so much that they recognize that, in order to give them both a chance to live full and happy lives, they must give one up.” Trowa became quiet again as he let his lover process this new information. He could tell from the look in those Prussian blue eyes that Heero had reached the same conclusion he had.

“They’re abandoning the younger in favour of the famous and, supposedly, more powerful one.” There was a fierce and angry look in his eyes. Instead of responding, Trowa turned back to the laptop and pressed a few buttons. A new image was now on the screen. Heero’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes stung. There was a picture of a baby, around one year old, with soft-looking black hair and striking green eyes. _“Trowa…”_ he breathed and his hand reached out to touch the screen.

“I know,’ Trowa replied softly, practically wrapping himself around his lover. “I thought the same thing when I saw him. Then I remember what that man…”

Heero tilted his head towards Trowa, his eyes not leaving the image on the screen. “What, love?” When Trowa didn’t respond, Heero turned his gaze away from the photo. “What’s wrong?” He brushed a hand against Trowa’s cheek.

“He actually asked me if I wanted to sign the custody papers right then and there. He didn’t even know my name yet, and he was completely willing to just blindly hand over custody of something so precious…”

Heero swallowed the lump in his throat and stamped down on the hope beginning to blossom in his shivering heart. “How did you respond?”

Trowa looked up, his gaze boring into Heero’s. “I insisted that, if he was serious, I would rather take a more official route and go over the whole thing with lawyers present. And that I needed to at least inform you first, before filling out the paperwo-” Trowa was silenced by the lips being pressed to his in an almost desperate kiss. When they parted, he wasn’t surprised to see tears escaping his lover’s openly anguished eyes. “Oh, my love…” He cradled his lover to him as the smaller man allowed himself to grieve. He’d been doing a lot of that lately – they both had. In fact, that was why Trowa had spent so much time walking lately. He didn’t want to burden his lover further with the addition of his grief on top of what Heero already felt. “I love you,” Trowa spoke into Heero’s hair. _“So much._ You are _so_ dear to me, my heart.”

Heero shook. “How could you, when I couldn’t even keep him safe?”

Trowa held him tighter. “It was an accident,” he said simply. “No one could have predicted it.”

“But I-” Trowa cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips.

“No. No buts,” Trowa insisted. The grief would always be there. The knowledge of the loss. But Trowa would never begrudge his smaller lover. It had been a simple, devastating, accident.

A few weeks prior, Heero had been six months pregnant with their first child. A boy. _A son._ He had been driving home from work, alone because Trowa had stayed late to finish catching up on paperwork. Without warning, something on the street blew up. The cars and pedestrians had been tossed about. Later, it was determined that a gas main exploded. Twelve people had been killed… well, the truth was that thirteen lives had been claimed that day. The thirteenth being the most precious to the two Preventer Agents.

Physically, Heero was fine. No serious damage. The doctors had even cheerily assured them he’d still be able to have other children. While that information was good to know, the delivery was less than appreciated.

It had been nearly 2 months. New Year’s Eve was in two days. They would have only had a few more weeks to wait…

But, life sometimes doesn’t work out that way.

Heero let out a shuddering breath and sat up straight. He took a deep breath and centered himself. “So, about the paperwork?”

Trowa searched his lover’s expression for a moment. “They want to meet us tomorrow with their lawyer to fill out what is necessary.”

Heero looked at the photo of the infant. He turned back to Trowa, “What’s his name?”

“Harry James. Born 31-07-AC198.”

Heero nodded and turned back to the image. They sat there, in each other’s arms, and just stared at it.

It wouldn’t bring back the son they had lost. And this child would never replace him. But maybe, just maybe, they would actually begin to heal. And hopefully, this child, this innocent little boy who looked so much like he could actually be theirs, would never have to know the kind of heartache and loneliness that they’d both felt growing up.


	3. Episode 02 - Small Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero and Trowa become parents and further work on dealing with their grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): MPreg (episodes have the potential to either mention or contain MPreg)  
> Author's Note (1): Wrong BWL, GBoys adopt baby Harry, 3x1 Slash.

Episode 02

Small Matters

AC 199 

* * *

It was the day before New Year’s Eve, and Heero felt like he was about to choke on the steadily growing emotions that were building up in him. Nervousness and anxiety were warring with the nearly overwhelming amount of hope. A large part of him was convinced that this was nothing more than a cruel joke. He wanted it… no, _needed_ it to be real. He didn’t know if he would be able to handle it otherwise. 

Potter had handed Trowa a business card with his lawyer’s contact information and instructions to set up a meeting the following day. After consulting with their closest friends (namely the other Gundam pilots), Quatre had recommended a lawyer from the firm he always used that specialized in family law. Despite it being such short notice, their new lawyer had no problems sitting to meet with them that evening and setting up the meeting with the Potters and their lawyer – that was definitely one good reason for Quatre having so many sisters. 

Heero’s racing heart began to calm when he felt his lover’s hand slip into his. Taking a calm breath, he looked into Trowa’s eyes and was admittedly relieved to see the same emotions he felt reflected back in that emerald-hued gaze. Not that anyone other than another Gundam pilot would be able to easily tell. He squeezed the taller man’s hand and got a reassuring squeeze back. The elevator dinged and they followed Zaida Winner out into the hall and towards the conference room. 

Heero held his breath as the door opened and they stepped in and… blinked. There were only two people waiting in the room. The short man, who looked to be in his mid-50’s, wearing an ugly charcoal grey and neon orange plaid suit, a matching bowler hat on the table next to him. The second individual was dressed even more peculiarly in a light lilac tuxedo with a bright pink ruffled shirt… almost like a bad prom outfit. His long white hair was pulled into a low pony tail and even his beard was tied with a small lilac bow which mostly obscured the ridiculous looking ruffle shirt. He appeared to be over one hundred years old and the look in his piercing blue eyes, which peered over half-moon spectacles, seemed calculating. Despite his attempt to look welcoming and… _grandfatherly_ … both Preventer Agents were suddenly on guard. For a split second the old man looked worried and maybe even put out before the twinkle in his eyes came back stronger than it had been a moment prior. 

“You must be Mr. Barton and Mr. Yuy. Am I correct?” the lawyer asked, either not seeing the caution in the two young men’s eyes or ignoring it. 

“Yes, these are my clients. Mr.?” Zaida stepped forward. 

“A woman lawyer?” the lawyer seemed to sneer at her in disbelief. Zaida chose not to comment on the man’s reaction. 

“May I ask who you are?” 

“Poppycock,” he replied haughtily. “Gunter Poppycock. And you, Mrs.?” 

“Ms. Zaida Winner-Karim,” she held out her hand to shake, merely quirking an eyebrow at the man’s odd sounding name. He sniffed derisively and didn’t take it. She chose not to comment on this either. “I was expecting Mr. and Mrs. Potter to be–” 

“Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Potter send their apologies,” the old man interrupted. “Their son woke with a bit of a fever and, as they didn’t want to leave him with a sitter for such a small matter, they asked me to come and represent them.” 

Heero, Trowa, and Zaida all frowned. “Small matter?” Trowa repeated, his voice as soft as it ever was but with a sharp undertone to it. 

“Oh yes,” Poppycock said rather jovially. “They’ve already filled out the necessary forms and have no reason to attend the matter further. They’ve more important matters to attend to at present.” 

The three, who had yet to sit down, bristled at the blatantly dismissive way they talked of the matter at hand. As though the fate of an innocent child was of no more importance than a cup that had been washed and dried and merely needed to be placed in the cupboard again. 

Just then, a tiny cough could be heard followed by a sad little cry. The old man, whose name they didn’t know, sighed and reached down beside him to pull up a basket. He set it on the table and jiggled it impatiently. Zaida frowned again, Trowa raised an eyebrow at the action, and Heero… Trowa glanced at his lover to see the man staring at the basket, his unwavering blue gaze transfixed. The contents of the basket gave another tiny cry and Heero walked around the table, eyes never leaving the basket, and without saying anything reached in and gently lifted the small child out of it. He cradled the infant close to himself, making soft shushing noises as the baby let out another small cry and secured the thin blanket around the small body. Continuing to ignore everyone else, he turned his back to the room and walked over to the large window that covered one wall of the conference room, gently bouncing the baby and making soothing noises. Trowa couldn’t help smiling softly at the sight. 

The garishly dressed lawyer cleaned his throat and Trowa turned back. “Now, if you’ll just sign these we can be on our–” 

“Not so fast,” Zaida stated. Poppycock and the old man looked startled. “I must insist on reading the documents in full before my clients fully commit. I need to make sure there are no surprises that might come back to bite them later.” Poppycock now looked flustered and sputtered while the old man glared a bit. She took a seat and began pouring over the documents. Trowa sat as well and placed the bag he carried on the floor by his feet before continuing to watch his lover sooth the baby. There were a great many that would be surprised to see The Perfect Soldier as he currently was, and there were just as little who had ever had the privilege to witness it. He let the voices of the other three fall into the background and focused on Heero and the baby. 

The baby. 

_Their baby._

Suddenly it was as if the floor beneath his feet had fallen out from under him and it was like he was falling. The room around him dropped away and all that was left was him, his lover, and the child… their child… their _son._ He watched as Heero rested his forehead against the little boy’s head, listened as Heero softly hummed a gentle melody and soothed the child when his little cries sounded. And suddenly he pictured them standing in the nursery at home, him standing in the doorway as his lover put their son to bed. 

Reality slammed back into focus when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned back to see Zaida smiling softly, and understanding glint in her eyes. 

“I looked over everything and it’s all sorted. Are you ready to sign?” She held out a pen and Trowa blinked before reaching for it, signing Triton Barton – his legal name – on the spaces indicated. She smiled again and inclined her head towards where Heero was still cradling the infant. Trowa stood and approached the two near the window. 

“It’s your turn to sign,” he said softly. Heero finally looked away from the infant and Trowa caught the unshed tears before Heero cleared his throat and got his emotions under control. Trowa held out his arms and Heero, after a moment’s pause, gently placed the precious bundle into his strong and steady arms. Now it was Trowa’s turn to stare at the little boy in awe. Despite being nearly a year and a half old, he was surprised at how small his son was. 

Oh God… _he had a son!_

He let out a soft chuckle and choked back a startled sob. He bit his lip and couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. He looked away from his little boy when he felt a hand on his cheek and stared into the watery eyes of his lover. He felt Heero brush away tears he hadn’t realized were falling. They leaned into each other and lightly pressed their lips together in a soft but meaningful kiss. 

A tiny rattling cough interrupted and they turned to look at their officially adopted son. Trowa lifted the little head and pressed his lips to the soft forehead, feeling the elevated heat. His lips thinned as he recalled the words of the lawyer and the old man whose name he still didn’t know. 

Beside him, Heero let out a huff. “Let’s go get him checked out properly. I doubt they bothered. Besides, I’m concerned about that cut on his forehead and Sally insisted this morning we bring him in as soon as possible.” 

“Yes. And we’ll need to get him into some warmer clothes and one of his new blankets.” They turned away from the window and went back to where Zaida still sat triple checking the paperwork. She had made sure to copy the documents with her portable scanner in front of the two men sat across from her. They had appeared mildly interested by the procedure, but mostly seemed to scoff at it. 

Heero retrieved the bag where Trowa had set it down and began removing items that their friends had assured them they needed. They absently noticed the two older men were gone. Trowa lay their new son on a soft towel Heero had placed there and unwrapped the blanket to remove the clothes the baby was dressed in, noticing for the first time how dirty they were. When he looked, he realized the blanket was also dirty and rather worn. 

“Hmm. We can just get rid of these,” he mused as he gently stripped off the dirty onesie. 

“And he’s going to need a proper bath when we get home,” Heero observed as Trowa changed the baby’s diaper and they scowled. The poor little boy had developed diaper rash. 

Zaida glanced over and did a double take. “That doesn’t look like it’s been taken proper care of,” she frowned. She had two children of her own. She rifled through their bag and pulled out a tin. “Oh good. Here, this cream will help him feel a little better for now.” Trowa finished changing the diaper, both he and Heero remembering when they’d been coerced into learning how with Duo and Relena’s twins. Those two had come as a surprise – both the couple and the twins. 

When Trowa was done, Heero took over and dressed the little boy in the outfit Relena had provided for them – her own children were now two and she had quickly brought over some of their son’s old clothes when Duo had explained to her what was going on. The outfit, which actually had a chibi Heavy Arms on the shirt, was a bit big on the decidedly small body. However, it was clean and, with the little green winter suit, would keep him warm. 

When they were done and everything was packed away in the bag, along with all the necessary documents, they left the conference room and building. The bag was slung over Trowa’s shoulder and their son was secure in Heero’s arms. 

Zaida dropped them off at the Preventer’s Headquarters before heading to the Winner Estate in London where she was sure her brother was anxiously awaiting any news. Trowa and Heero entered the main building and bypassed the security station, neither requiring to flash their ID or badges given who they were – most of the people working for the Preventers were intimidated by all the former Gundam pilots, who included the former Lightening Baron. Director Lady Une was talking with Doctor Sally Po when they arrived in the state-of-the-art medical facility and the two women immediately turned when they entered. 

“Director, Sally,” Trowa nodded in greeting. 

“Agent Barton, Agent Yuy,” Lady Une nodded back before dismissing herself. 

“Trowa, Heero,” Sally greeted. She turned to the bundle in Heero’s arms. “And who do we have here?” She smiled as she peered at the baby’s face. 

“We haven’t decided yet,” Heero replied. 

“We’re not sure if we’re going to change his name yet,” Trowa explained. 

“He has a fever and a rattling cough,” Heero stated as he placed his son on the examination table Sally indicated before beginning to strip the winter suit off. 

“He also has diaper rash that looks like it hadn’t been treated. I put this cream on it.” Trowa dug the tin out of the bag. 

Sally hummed as she began the examination, taking careful notes. She measured and weight the infant and couldn’t stop from frowning. She checked everything, paying special attention to his eyes, ears, and throat, before taking his temperature. The two Preventer Agents watched the entire proceeding silently and with rapt attention. Shen she was finished her examination, taken the necessary samples, and made some final notes, she turned to the two men. To the untrained eye they were both as stoic as ever, but she’d known them long enough to be able to make out their worry. “From what I can tell, the cut on his forehead isn’t infected and it seems to be healing slowly. The O-EM Force Scanner indicates some elevated activity not connected with his core. And his core seems to be fluctuating at random intervals as though it’s been depleted and is trying to stabilize. We’ll need to make sure to monitor it regularly. And aside from having a cold and the bad case of diaper rash, he’s mostly healthy.” 

“Mostly?” Heero’s eyes narrowed as he re-clothed the little boy. 

“He’s a little underweight. The blood tests will show for sure, but I would hazard a guess that he’s undernourished as well. It’s not advanced enough to classify him as malnourished but, from what I can see, if it had gone on for too much longer he would be fast approaching that.” She pulled a small cart forward. “I’ll just need to administer the booster shots he needs and then proscribe some medicine to help with the cold. When I get his bloodwork back, and consult with a friend who specializes in pediatric nutrition, I’ll be able to tailor a nutrient proscription and get you a list of foods he needs, but for now I’ll suggest a general nutrient supplement you can put in his bottle.” When she finished, she handed Trowa the promised proscription, a list of suggested nutrient supplements, and instructions for treating the rash. After their son was bundled up again they thanked Sally and headed out to where they’d left their car parked that morning. Duo had secured the borrowed car seat into the vehicle during their meeting and, after figuring out the straps, they were on their way. 

* * *

AC 200

Three days after bringing their new son home the fever, which had spiked on the second day, had finally broken and was now fading. Neither Heero nor Trowa had gotten much sleep since they got home that first day with the sick little boy. Their panic had finally calmed when Sally had confirmed that the baby’s temperature was indeed going down. The diaper rash was nearly gone as well. So the previously miserable little boy was finally resting easier. 

Heero bolted awake, reaching a hand to where his lover slept. He was momentarily startled when his hand came into contact with the cold sheet. His senses took stock of his surroundings and his slightly enhanced hearing picked up sounds coming from down the hall. He also noticed the soft, flickering light that accompanied it. He stood, bare feet cushioned by the soft carpet, and moved towards the low noise. 

Peeking around the corner into the living room, Heero’s muscles relaxed, no longer ready to spring into action. He sighed lightly, a gentle smile on his lips. The television was on with the volume turned down low. On the recliner lay a sleeping Trowa with their son spread out on his father’s chest, the little boy equally as knocked out. 

The sight was heartwarming. 

Heero suddenly choked back a sob as his chest constricted, almost painfully. He hated these unpredictable bouts of uncontrollable emotion. They made him feel vulnerable and weak. The “Perfect Soldier” was anything but. But the grief counselor Director Une had forced both Heero and Trowa to see after the miscarriage insisted the whole process was normal. She’d explained that they’d both have their good days and that the cycle of grieving went both ways. He wasn’t to worry if he relapsed to a previous stage of grief. The grief would always be there but he’d learn the tools to manage it so it wouldn’t consume him. 

Heero suddenly realized he’d sunk to the floor, his back to the hallway wall. Tears fell down his face at a rather alarming rate as he tried not to sob out loud. The constriction in his chest hadn’t abated and his breath was beginning to come out in gasps. In his peripheral awareness he dimly tracked Trowa’s movements as the taller man passed by him and entered the nursery. Probably to place the baby in the crib. 

Heero felt an incredible amount of anger and bitterness wash over him. This was almost immediately followed by a crushing feeling of guilt. He didn’t care anymore and cried harder. 

Arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a steady, warm embrace. He clung to his lover and cried out the overwhelming emotions raging inside him. Cried out the pain, and guilt, and the sheer unfairness of it all. Trowa just held him. Grounded him in the hurricane of emotions neither of them had been trained to understand let alone handle. 

Eventually, the crying stopped. The two stayed sitting in the darkened hallway, arms clinging to each other, the light from the television flickering around them. 

“I want it to be _him_ in there…” Heero confessed after a long period of silence. “And that makes me feel like a horrible person.” His breath hitched and he squeezed his eyes shut, burrowing into Trowa’s shoulder. 

Trowa exhaled a sigh. “You’re not a horrible person.” He tilted Heero’s head up to press their foreheads together. “There’s been a few moments when that’s all I can think of too,” he admitted, his own pain evident in his soft tone. “But that doesn’t make us horrible.” 

“It feels like it. We have this beautiful, innocent little boy. And he’s ours. But all I can think of right now is how much I want my baby.” More tears fell but Heero was beginning to feel too exhausted to be bothered by it. 

“I know exactly how you feel. And it’s fine,” Trowa insisted. “I also know that we’ll get there, eventually.” 

Heero sighed, “I’m tired.” Without saying anything, Trowa hooked his arms under his lover and easily stood in one fluid motion. He carried Heero back to bed bridal-style and, for once, Heero didn’t complain. 

* * *

“So, how has your holiday been?” their counselor, Ms. Wick, asked. It was hard to dislike the woman. She was so sincere. They were currently in a couples session. The first one since before the Christmas holiday. 

Heero shrugged. “Pretty good, I guess.” Trowa simply nodded in agreement. After two months of weekly couples sessions and individual sessions they still had difficulties opening up at the beginning of each session. 

“That’s good to hear,” she smiled openly. “What did you do for Christmas?” 

“Uh, we went to dinner at our friend Quatre’s for Christmas Eve,” Trowa replied. 

“How was it?” 

“Good.” 

“Was there a lot of people?” 

“There usually is,” Heero stated. 

“How did you feel about that?” 

Heero shrugged. “It felt like it always does.” 

“That’s good,” Wick nodded. “And what about New Year’s? What did you do then?” Both men froze for a second. “Did something happen?” 

“Well, actually…” Trowa rubbed the back of his neck.

“We adopted a baby,” Heero said rather quickly. Ms Wick tried not to grin at his blush. They were both still getting used to allowing themselves to feel obvious emotions around others.

“You did?”

“It was kind of spur of the moment,” Trowa offered before launching into an explanation of the whole event. He left nothing out – not even about the Collective, which Ms. Wick was aware of considering her clients were all government agents of some type – starting from his walk in the park. They both opened up a bit about what they’d been feeling at each stage and even admitted to some of their current fears. She could tell they were both still holding back, but that was fine for now. They were both much more open than they had been when they’d started coming to see her.

When their time was almost up, she finally asked “What’s his name?”

They both got silent.

“Well, we haven’t really decided… yet,” Trowa admitted rather bashfully.

“It’s not that we don’t want to,” Heero continued. “It’s just…”

“It’ll make it all more real?” she asked understandingly. The two men nodded. “Well, you’re time is up for today,” she said after glancing at the clock above their heads. “Here’s your homework for this week: I want you to take the time, even if it’s just five minutes, every day to discuss a name for your son that you both agree on. And I want you to share that name with me the next time you both come in together.”

* * *

Heero watched as Trowa cuddled with the baby on the recliner again. He sat on the opposite side of the room turning the counselor’s words over in his head. The child needed a name. A real name. They couldn’t call him Little One forever. After all, Little One Barton may have a unique appeal but the boy wouldn’t be thanking them later.

He’d had his individual session today and he’d realized something startling. He hadn’t held his son since the day they’d brought him home. It made him feel extremely guilty when it had dawned on him. Wick had helped him understand the reasons behind his reluctance. Logically, he realized that this baby wasn’t taking the place of the one he’d lost, but his irrational side – meaning his emotional side – was having difficulties accepting that fact.

He watched as Trowa pressed a gentle kiss to the boy’s head. He looked content… at least when his eyes were closed. They’d talked about that too, he and Wick. That irrational side had seethed at the notion that Trowa had forgotten the child they’d almost had together. It reeled at the easy acceptance of this… interloper. But when he looked more carefully at his lover’s expressions he was able to see the same warring emotions that he felt reflected in Trowa.

Heero focused on the child in his lover’s arms. The fever was finally gone. As was the rash. He was finally healthy and Heero was incredibly glad to see the little boy was no longer miserable. Just when he was studying the small facial features the little boy’s eyes opened and they locked gazes. The little boy smiled and let out a happy sound and babbled a little. Wordlessly, Heero stood and crossed the room. His gaze didn’t waver from the child. Without pausing to think about it, he reached down and lifted to baby boy into his arms, missing the surprised but happy look on Trowa’s face.

He held the boy in front of him and the two simply stared at each other. Then Heero gently rested their foreheads together and sighed. He was admittedly startled to realize he was smiling. It was a small smile, but it was there. And, finally, he found he had to admit that Ms. Wick was right. It was okay to feel content. His baby was gone, and that completely sucked. He’ll always miss what could have been. But… that was okay too. This little boy wasn’t here to be a replacement. He wasn’t here to make them forget. He was here because he needed someone. Someone to care. Someone to love him for being him.

Heero was determined to be that someone.

The child they lost would never be forgotten. And the child he held – _his son_ – would be cared for and cherished for his own merit.

It was a start.

* * *

“So, have you two agreed on a name?” They were in Ms. Wick’s office again for another couples session.

“Yes, we have,” Trowa nodded.

“What did you decide?”

“Adrian,” Heero replied. “Adrian Triton Barton.” [1]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The grieving and counselling scenes sort of snuck up on me. But they fit.
> 
>   **Footnote:**
> 
> [1] Adrian – I’m using the Russian pronunciation of ah-dree-AHN. No one is quite certain where Trowa is actually descended from. Official sources suggest he’s either Latin or European but give no more specifics than that. I believe an unofficial source suggested Russian. For various reasons, I like this idea. So I’m working with the idea that Trowa and Catherine are of Russian descent.


	4. Episode 03 - Propriety and Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore muses over an impertinent woman and his perfectly laid plans

Episode 03

Propriety and Planning

AC 199

* * *

Dumbledore frowned… At least on the inside.

They had simply wanted to get the proper documents signed and be on their way, have this whole inconvenient situation dealt with without fuss, and this impertinent muggle woman who held the position of a professional legal representative actually had the audacity to question them?

What respectable married woman would even take a position in such a cutthroat business position anyway? Women were much more suited to handling the intricacies of moving in society. Even the poor Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t act so brash. And, while the soon to be Mrs. Lovegood had a career, spell research was a perfectly respectable profession for a married woman. Besides, being a lawyer wasn’t the same as maintaining a shop as a family business.

It was simply brazen of the woman to fly in the face of propriety. Unlike the women who were employed as Hogwarts professors and countless other professions throughout the Wizarding World who chose to remain single to better serve the demands of their positions. It would almost be commendable but the nerve of the woman, insinuating that the individuals who had drafted the documents had included something untoward. Why, she’d even attempted to shake their hands! It was a rather incredible move and he wasn’t sure if he should be shocked at her boldness or amused.

There was nothing questionable in the documents. But there had been other terms in the documents she had contested. Despite Dumbledore and Mr. Poppycock feeling these terms were perfectly adequate, they conceded not seeing the need to draw this out too much longer.

While he had wished to include a custody reversion clause – which would allow for custody to revert back to the birth parents should said parents change their minds and any point in the boy’s life – from the beginning, even _he_ realized the likelihood that this couple would be in support of it would be remote had it been included in the documents. The couple itself was completely unorthodox. Two men in a public romantic entanglement? They were almost more impertinent than the woman.

Not that he expected the clause would ever be required to be enacted. James and Lily had been right, Dumbledore mused. The boy was better off with a new family instead of being a distraction for the wonderful Potters. They all needed to focus as much of their attention on the Boy-Who-Lived as possible as Dumbledore was convinced they hadn’t seen the last of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. (Dumbledore snorted to himself at the moniker the Wizarding World had given the Dark Lord Voldemort.) It would be unfair to the Potters to be expected to divide their attention between the saviour of their world and a child with such a weak level of magic.

The day after the attack on Hallowe’en, the boys had been thoroughly examined by the school nurse, Poppy Pomfrey, at Hogwarts’ infirmary. She was the only one the Potters would trust with their children after such a traumatic event. A quick scan had revealed a shocking revelation and they were finally able to figure out what had happened the night before.

As they were finally over one full year of age and had been in hiding, it was their first scan and it revealed that Alton Potter’s magic was quite healthy for an average baby of his age. It pulsed steadily with happiness and life, and everyone present recognized that it would only grow more so. The Potters were so proud of the findings. The scan of the other Potter boy, however, revealed extremely weak traces of magic which would periodically spike in a rather pathetic attempt to grow. Understandably, the Potters were distraught at the news. Given their own power levels, it was a disappointment that a child of theirs would be… All of those present had been wholeheartedly sympathetic and understanding when Mrs. Potter couldn’t bring herself to say the word “squib”. Out of respect for the couple, no one else had said it either.

In light of this revelation, it was determined that Alton Potter had triumphed over the darkest wizard of their age, protecting his defenseless brother in the process. All of Alton’s wounds had been expertly healed and he was soon happily snuggling in his mother’s arms. The other boy, however, retained a peculiar cut on his forehead. It seemed to resist all attempts at healing. After some discussion – and a quick consultation with the Ancient Runes professor – it was concluded that Alton had performed a particularly astounding bit of accidental magic when protecting his brother. The cut was determined to be in the shape of a variation of an incomplete protective rune intended to return evil back to its originator. It was likely incomplete due to the interruption by Voldemort. As for Madame Pomfrey not being able to heal the cut magically, it was concluded that Alton’s love for his twin and need to protect him was so strong at that moment that the protection was still active.

The Potters were, again, understandably extremely proud. Surely, this meant that their son was a Runes prodigy!

Dumbledore pulled himself from his musings when he noticed the woman in front of them had finally got the attention of the man sitting next to her. He was curious at the fact that neither man seemed to be paying any attention to the proceedings. In fact, neither man had really showed any sort of emotion since the suspicious look they’d given him and Poppycock upon entering the room and, for the vaguest moment, wondered if they could care for the child.

He immediately dismissed the notion.

The shorter one was obviously ready to do what was minimally required. He had immediately picked up the fussing boy and was succeeding in keeping the troublesome infant quiet and, from what Dumbledore could see, was patiently tolerant of child’s periodic cries. Dumbledore was thankful. The child hadn’t been able to stay calm and quiet for very long in the hour he’d been in the care of the Headmaster of Hogwarts and he’d been worried the boy would be disruptive. Indeed, the boy had been fussing long before Dumbledore had arrived at the Potters home that morning. He was distressing the couple as they tried to care for little Alton as the boy seemed to have caught a fever the night before and it was getting worse. However, observing the two emotionally detached men, he decided that they were adequate guardians for the boy. From what research on the two his contact had managed to dig up last night, the two were battle hardened soldiers and, Dumbledore believed, would create an environment that would actually serve to raise the boy in a manner that could only benefit Dumbledore’s plans. After all, magic or no, he could prove useful in the fight Alton would eventually have to wage against Voldemort. Yes, this boy would grow up instilled with the honourable sense of justice that a soldier would have and help his brother for the greater good. Dumbledore was sure of it.

It was actually an incredible stroke of luck that the taller of the two was the person James Potter had chosen, at random, to approach the day before. At first, the Potters were in favour of dropping the boy off at a muggle orphanage, but Dumbledore quickly vetoed that. It would not do to risk creating another Voldemort after all. Lily Potter considered entrusting him to her sister and brother-in-law, they had a young child of their own and would be prepared for another of the same age. Surely, they would feel a heartwarming loyalty to family and happily welcome their nephew into their home. But Petunia had slammed the door in her face before she could even voice a greeting. They couldn’t expect a magical family to take the boy. It wouldn’t be fair – to either the family or the boy. In the end, James had set out into muggle London and wandered around until he found someone to approach that looked the right sort.

The man James had found finished signing the documents before taking the infant from his partner. He kept his back to them so Dumbledore wasn’t sure what his reaction to the boy was. The shorter man signed as well and went back to the taller man’s side. Dumbledore then watched with indulgent interest as the woman produced a device she called a “scanner”. He had no idea what she was scanning for but he waited as she, curiously, ran every piece of paper through the device one at a time. Muggles were peculiar beings, weren’t they? When she was done, and Poppycock had their copy of the paperwork, they took their leave – and she amusingly attempted to shake their hands again.

The two exited the building and made their way to the nearest apparition point. From there, they made their way to Poppycock’s office. Once there, the two went over the documents and discussed the necessary changes before charming the papers to read what they wanted. Among the changes were the inclusion of the custody reversion clause (which could be enacted up until the boy reached the age of 25. Being the scion of a Noble House allowed for the extension on the age of majority instead of simply being 17.), as well as a clause that required the boy to attend Hogwarts should he miraculously attain enough magic to properly wield a wand, and removed any revisions the woman had made. While Dumbledore was sure she meant well, he knew what was needed for the greater good. Once they were finished, he left the documents for Poppycock to file with the Ministry and went back Hogwarts to finish preparing for students to return after their holiday break. He would wait a week to allow the muggle system enough time to file their own documents before sending someone to the office where the document would be stored in order to switch out the old documents for the new, altered ones.

Yes. Everything was going perfectly to plan.

However, little did Dumbledore realize, the documents had been electronically submitted almost before he and Poppycock had left the conference room. Thanks to the scanner Ms. Zaida Winner-Karim had used to copy the papers – which included a scan of both the copy of the documents she kept _and_ the copy they left the conference room with. The scanned copies had immediately been sent to her assistant who would file them accordingly upon receiving them. In fact, by the time Dumbledore had managed to reach his office in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ms. Winner-Karim had already made several photocopies of the documents in her possession. And, by the time dinner rolled around, there were copies filed in her work office, home office, her brother’s home office, and in the Preventer Archives. The original documents, after being photocopied by the appropriate ministry office, were enroute to be filed in the OEM-Force Archive which was located in the L7-F369 Colony – a Space Colony inhabited mostly by First-Gens and their families – by breakfast the next morning, and two more copies were also on their way to be filed in offices used by Ms. Winner-Karim and her brother, Mr. Quatre Raberba Winner, on the L4 colony where their family did business.

He would never know that, when the individual he’d sent to switch the documents glanced at the originals they’d mere quirked an eyebrow at the word “COPY” stamped onto the pages in blue. It was a strange way to mark something that needed to be copied. What happened every time someone looked at the file? They would assume they needed to make another copy each time. It was confusing. No, this person didn’t think anything else of it when they placed the new, unmarked, documents in the folder. They were doing the next person a favour and making sure that person wouldn’t get unnecessarily confused. This person merely tossed the old documents in a bin conveniently placed next to the cabinet and walked out. And if, in the morning, an office worker came into the file room and saw the discarded document in the bin (the only item in it as the janitor had already been by before the switch), found the replacement file in the folder, and brought it to the attention of their manager… well, that’s not really all that important.

Everything was going perfectly to plan indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewrite this whole thing as the first time I made Dumbledore too callous and conniving for my purposes. While I intend him to be manipulative and all about his precious "greater good", he’s supposed to actually believe in his cause and think a little too much of himself and those he sees as good.


End file.
